


on the waterline

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Ondine (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Modesty Graves gets to play cupid [again], On Hiatus, Ondine [2009], Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Rating May Change, Romance, Selective Muteness, Selkies, Slow Build, Tags to be added, irish accents abound in the text sorry, its a fairy tale unlike the source movie sadly, mentions of divorce and separation, set in ireland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-12 23:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold stretch of sandy beach, and a stiff breeze blowing in from the north, as a little girl went for a walk.She wasn’t looking for anything but shells, and perhaps a bit of sun, but it was such a very cloudy day, there was little to no chance of it.She walks and walks, until she sees something, prettier than a shell, and lanky as an otter.They’re singing, and as she watches, birds flap past, and fish jump from the waves.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [partofforever (edvic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edvic/gifts).

> call this an experiment or smth but i did post about this fic a while back here #1:  
https://soz.tumblr.com/post/169009269380/on-the-waterline  
and here #2: https://soz.tumblr.com/post/175458163015/
> 
> but ive been feeling shitty and even tho i did kinktober im still job hunting and just feeling crummy so whatever here this is.
> 
> P S A:  
Its not the 1st selkie AU and it wont be the last im sure even right now people are scrambling to do their own version and one up me lol HOWEVER its the least loyal to the movie while also being the most loyal cheers

Once upon a time, there was a cold stretch of sandy beach, and a stiff breeze blowing in from the north, as a little girl went for a walk. She wasn’t looking for anything but shells, and perhaps a bit of sun, but it was such a very cloudy day, there was little to no chance of it. She walks and walks, until she sees something, prettier than a shell, and lanky as an otter. They’re singing, and as she watches, birds flap past, and fish jump from the waves. 

The sound stops as soon as she’s spotted, and the creatures drift away, as they straighten up, and focus on her. 

“Hello little one.” Modesty blinks, and then smiles, stepping closer. “Are you a mermaid? Or a selkie? From the sea.” 

It’s all she can think of to say. It’s a boy. The sharpness of his face is clearer now, with his hair blowing gently in the sea breeze. There’s no evidence of a tail, only a pair of bony feet, sticking out from a strange looking fabric swathed around his waist. It’s rough looking, greenish tan like a net. A fishing net. “Did someone try and catch you?” 

The boy shrugs delicately, and then glances away, out to the water. 

“Perhaps I stole it. Decided to keep it for myself. A trophy of man.” 

Modesty drops down to sit beside him on the damp sand, digging her toes in, and pressing her lips together before speaking again. She wonders if he’ll leave before she can ask any more questions. 

“You were singing before. Will you do it again please?” She waits breathlessly, and he kicks a pale leg out, then stretches up with his arms, tilting his head, popping his neck, straightening his spine. Three wet clicks. 

It sounds like her Da opening shellfish. Modesty watches, and then his lips part, his eyes find hers, and a haunting melody fills the air around them. No creatures approach them, but the hairs on Modesty’s arms and legs stands up. 

“Are you hungry?” She asks after he stops for a moment, and swallows. 

He doesn’t look underfed, but his eyes are sad, and his lips a bit blue. He may just need to get back into the water, return to his home proper. Modesty’s not sure. “Do you have food that isn’t fish? They’re my friends.” 

She tries to think for a moment. 

“My Da can make anything you like. I promise… he won’t make you eat fish. But you’re so cold.”

She reaches out, and he lets her touch his cheek, which doesn’t cut her, but it’s chilled under her fingers. 

“I’m used to it, little one.” He doesn’t quite smile, but almost. 

Modesty frowns, “You shouldn’t be, come on.” She takes one of his hands, tugs his arm, and he goes with her, though he is surely strong enough to fight her off, should he want. He gets to his feet and towers over her, almost twice her height, just like Da is. The boy walks unsteadily, because of the shifting sand, so Modesty offers her arm, and he leans on her shoulder, giving her more of a smile. “Thank you.” 

They reach the seaside cabin in a few minutes, over some ridges and hills, and Modesty almost bounces with excitement as they approach the back door. She can see her Da cooking inside, standing at the stove, humming to himself. 

“Mo? Is that you love? Where’ve you been up to?” 

“Out by the beach! I found a selkie. I’ve brought him to join us for dinner. Can you make him some kale and garlic? He doesn’t eat fish. He sings them to sleep.” Modesty leads the boy into the cabin, and Da looks back at her, his eyes widening as his eyebrows meet over his nose. “Sweetheart… what’re you talking about?” 

The boy sighs, and squeezes her hand. “He won’t be able to hear me.” 

Modesty is frowning now, and pouting a little, she knows. “What do you mean? Da… his name is… what’s your name?” The boy’s smile has gotten sad, drooping off to one side, even as color flushes in his cheeks, spreading down his neck and chest. He’s not shivering, nor was he ever. “It’s Credence.” 

“Good. I’m Modesty. Or Mo for short.” She beams, and then turns to Da, but he looks just as confused as before. 

“Love, I think that he’s mute. Perhaps he needs something to drink. Get some warmth back in those bones.” 

Modesty’s jaw drops, and she starts to protest, but the boy from the sea, Credence, squeezes her hand harder, and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Okay… can he wear one of your coats?”

“No sweets, he’s too slight. Grab one of Aunt Queenie’s.” Modesty skips away and hopes that Credence doesn’t mind a little petal pink. She comes back and hands it to him, as he drapes it around his shoulders, giving her a grateful smile, mouthing thanks, before looking to Da and nodding his head. Why can’t Da hear the boy? 

* * *

All throughout the meal, Percy eyes the boy, the mysterious lad whom Mo’s decided is worthy of their hospitality. 

Not that he minds sharing any food with lonesome strangers, but usually they have business in town, with the fishermen, or are just passing through. Mo acts like he actually came  _ from _ the sea. Percy’s not stupid. 

He knows of the myths and legends, and it’s unlikely the boy got his odd attire from swimming in the waves. 

The lad looks to be wrapped in a net from the waist down, and now with Q’s coat, he’s a surprising contrast of softness and rough edges. His hair is long enough to brush the collar of the darkest pink, the coral inside that’s almost the same shade of his lips. Percy blinks, starting. He’s not sure why he’s been staring at the lad, when clearly, he’s not planning to stick around, so any sort of interest of that sort is pointless. Mo’s not trying to play matchmaker. 

She’s just made friends with a boy who’s almost twice her height and age. 

Percy sighs, and takes a sip of his lager, eyeing the glass beside the lad. 

“How old is your friend? Not out to get drunk and go drive thanks to my ale is he?” 

Mo glances at the boy and smiles, as Percy swears he can see his mouth and throat moving, but no sounds emerge. 

“Drive? He’s just turned twenty he says. In London, with uncle Theo, they drink in pubs at seventeen don’t they?” 

Percy rolls his eyes and shakes his head, winking at the lad, “Christ love, who’s been telling you these lies? No one can drink before they’re twenty. Right, good man. Enjoy. Stay away from motor vehicles, just in case.”

He says it like a joke, but he’s lost friends to that sort of thing. Driving foolishly after a night at the pub and pool halls. Ever since, he’s barely touched the stuff except on special occasions. 

Visits from a possibly mythical creature count as such, he supposes. 

While he’s clearing the dishes, Mo chirps and chatters quietly at the boy, but Percy hears nothing in response. 

Apparently  _ she _ understands him just right, and maybe it’s so. She’s always had such a way with words, with animals, and pups and kittens. He’s caught her many a time nursing a frazzled fledgling back to life upon it accidentally crashing into one of their many windows. She’s just one of those… children who tries to be a friend to all things. 

If she’d come back with some kind of rough and tumble sort on her arm, Percy thinks he’d have gone for his rifle. 

This lad, this tall wraith-like boy isn’t anything of the sort. 

He looks as if he’d be able to lift Percy off his feet, and then some, but he’s hardly a cage fighter. 

The only betrayal of strength is when he’s pushing his chair back into the table, the coat opens enough for Percy to see his chest and stomach muscles ripple. He swallows, wishing he had more ale, his throat suddenly resembles a desert. 

Mo goes off on a tangent about her favorite book she’s reading, and Percy has to step in. 

“Darling, don’t you think it’s time your friend went home? It’s past dark.” Mo gives him the sad eyes, and the lower lip wobble, but Percy wasn’t born yesterday. He’s no fool, nor is he fully immune to her charms. 

“Sweetness, please don’t fight me on this. He’s not a bird, nor a dog. He cannae stay with us.” 

“But Da, he has nowhere else to go, right Credence?” She turns to the lad, and Percy realizes that must be his name. Somehow, he told her without Percy hearing it. 

The boy, Credence, blinks solemnly, liquid eyes turning to him, along with a slow shrug. It’s up to him. Of course it is. 

It’s all up to him. Percy’s the only person in this whole place with his head on straight. 

“Gods be damned. The couch. Alright. Sleep on the couch. Mo, you’re staying in my room tonight.” 

She’s indignant, glaring at him, her mood changed in an instant. 

“You really think he’d harm me Da? I found him. He sang for me.” She breaks off, and Percy sees her tilt towards the boy. Credence  _ must _ be communicating with her. 

“He says we fed him, so we’re under his protection. He’s in our debt, if you like.” 

Percy stoops down and pulls her into his arms, hefting her up on a hip, staring at the boy, who stands straight, and manages to have a few inches of height on him, despite being barefoot. 

He’s tracking sand everywhere and so is Mo, come to think of it. 

“I don’t care what you think or you say, but you’re welcome to sleep on the couch. If you’re gone in the morning, so be it. If not, I could use some help with my boat. That’ll earn your breakfast, yeah?” Mo is already squirming in his arms, pouting and telling him he’s being unreasonable, but Credence locks eyes with him, and nods slowly. 

He looks to Mo, and his gaze softens. She smiles at him, suddenly happy again. 

“Goodnight to you too, Credence. Say goodnight to him Da. He’s going to help you. He promises.”

Percy swallows thickly, and hugs her close, ducking his head at the boy, “You’re welcome. Go get some rest.”

There’s blankets stacked behind the cushions, and as Percy shuts and secures the door, checks the front, grabs the mail and waterlogged newspaper, he comes back in to see Credence has shed the borrowed coat, folded it carefully and placed it over the back of the couch, and tucked one of the blankets around his shoulders instead. The other drapes over his legs, tucked in around his feet. He’s leaning against the biggest cushion, staring up at the ceiling. 

Percy tries to walk past, but Credence glances to him. He feels a bit trapped under the weight of the lad’s eyes. 

“Look, I don’t know if you can’t or won’t talk to me, but Mo seems to trust you. Don’t make me regret listening to her.” He doesn’t mean to sound threatening, not really. But he does anyway. Credence blinks languidly, and then his lips twitch into a smile. He settles back down, and closes his eyes. Percy keeps walking, and once inside his room, he locks the door. Mo’s already snuggled in his bed, having never really grown tired of sharing, ever since she was a babe. 

Percy watches her for a moment, then remembers himself. 

He’s got to clean up, brush his teeth and then try to sleep himself. Todays catch was less than plentiful, and he needs to double up tomorrow to ensure he doesn’t lose money. Mo has no idea the kind of life she could have avoided, had she just been born in England, or even France. Things would be different, he knows. But they are happy, somewhat. 

The idea of asking Theo or Q for money leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

If the next weeks profits aren’t as good as they should be, he’s gonna have to. 

Percy climbs under the covers and gives Mo a kiss on the forehead, before turning around and facing away from her, tucked around an extra pillow and with a towel beneath his head, keeping his wet hair from soaking the case. 

He sleeps, but doesn’t dream that night, not of anything that he can really remember in the morning. 

All he remembers is hearing an echoing sound, like singing, from far away, maybe even under water. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an update before i vanish into the void again ie work

Credence stirs in the middle of the night, and can’t fall back asleep, not without soothing himself. 

He’s somewhere safe, he’s ensured he’ll be that way for seven years. Credence has buried the skin far inland, where ma won’t ever find it. He didn’t mean to be found by humans so quickly, but the young ones are far too curious for their own good sometimes. Credence begins to quietly sing the lullaby he knows. It’s one of three. 

After a while, the words and notes become mumbles, as his eyelids start to droop, and the next time they open, warm sunshine is streaming through the windows, spilling onto his face. He sniffs. Credence can now smell the salty tang of bacon, hear the crackle of butter. 

Humans have always fascinated him with their methods of cooking, and this one whose house he’s in is no different. 

The man cooks lots of fish because that’s his work, how he makes money and keeps a home. 

Credence knows a bit about the culture, from whispers of the seabirds. They’re never hunted by humans, so they’re free to observe all. Credence sits up slowly, and winces at the slight ache in his back. He’s never slept on something so soft or shaped before. Usually just the sand cradles his body, or the waves. Credence peeks out from the blanket to see the man, whom Mo calls her Da, cooking, and moving about the room like he’s dancing. Perhaps to a tune only he can hear. 

It’s entrancing to watch. 

Credence knows the man asked his age last night, and perhaps he should have asked Mo right back how old her Da was. His entire mane of hair is silver and brown, while his heavy brows are fully dark, much as his eyes. 

He’s a very beautiful human. Mo looks barely alike him, with hair like golden sunbeams, and eyes as pale as the sky. Perhaps Mo’s mother is who she takes after, then again, Credence does not resemble ma, for she is not his true family. This man, Mo’s Da, is a kinder guardian than Credence has ever known to be possible, so he’s grateful to have been brought here, and it took no amount of courage to agree to help the man. 

Credence is caught looking a few moments later, his chin hooked over the back of the couch, hands clenched tightly in the blanket. He can feel the man’s eyes on his hair, then lowering to his face. “Sleep alright?” 

Credence nods, and the man looks away, back to the breakfast he’s cooking. 

“Glad to hear it. Or not hear it… but you know what I mean. Anyway… do you like coffee or juice?” 

Credence realizes he needs to get up and come over and see the choices to ensure he doesn’t accidentally accept one or the other. He’s not sure what’s in coffee, but juice is made from fruit, so it’s likely to be delicious. 

Credence leaves the secondary blanket behind, and just keeps the one on his shoulders, padding quietly over, ignoring the scrape of his dried netting. He reaches out for the empty glass sitting beside the carton clearly marked  _ ‘orange juice’ _ and the man nods. “Good okay. So you’re not yet addicted to the brown stuff.” 

Credence must look puzzled enough, as the man continues, “It’s a joke. Because I used to be like… an alcoholic. Now I stick with ale and this. It’s a force of habit.” He’s about to try and say something, when Modesty pops out of nowhere, and Credence sags in relief. Finally someone he can talk to. “Can you tell your Da I’d like a little juice, and maybe a taste of coffee too? Also tell him I wanted to wish him a… good morning.” He smiles at her, and gets a dazzling one in return. “You bet! Da!” She relays the message and the man actually groans. 

“Are you sure? He’s going down a dangerous path. Here, try mine.” Credence accepts the cup gratefully, warmth seeping into his skin, chasing away any bit of cold from his bare feet on the floor. Modesty watches enraptured as he takes a sip. 

It’s bitter, awful, and just shy of too hot. He makes a face, and both Modesty and the man laugh. 

Modesty giggles, and her Da catches himself, appearing to bite the inside of his cheek. 

“Um then, it’s a no. Give it here.” Credence does so at once, and Modesty takes his hand once it’s free, urging him over to the dining table. He sits, and she leans in close, “What was it like? He never lets me try it.” 

Credence grins, “It’s a bit like the ale. But worse. It’s worse than seaweed.” 

Modesty squeaks, and then looks back at her Da. He’s carefully putting the bacon on napkins to soak up excess grease, and then adding eggs to the pan, cooking them in the leftover bits. 

“Do you think he likes me? He’s not mad at me anymore?” 

Modesty worries her bottom lip, and her brows furrow a little, “I think… if you do a good job helping him with the fishing… you’ll win him over. How long do you want to stay with us?” 

Credence blinks, “I think it’s up to your Da. But… as long as I can.” 

Modesty nods, “I go back to school in the spring. Maybe you could come with me. Get a job at the library. You wouldn’t have to speak. You could just file books, help with things.” Spring? That’s a good four months from now. 

Credence isn’t sure but he thinks, maybe he could try. “That sounds like an interesting idea.” Modesty grins again. “Yeah?”

“Alright, breakfast is served. Come along now.” 

The man’s voice interrupts their discussion, and Credence sits upright just in time for a steaming plate to be put in front of him, along with a full glass of juice. He aches to be able to say thank you and have the man hear him. In lieu of that, Modesty sees the plea in his eyes, and chirps at her Da for them both. “It looks grand. Should we pray?” 

Credence feels something like ice sliding down his spine, and Modesty looks to him, then her Da. “Umm… maybe not.”

“Sweets, it’s been a good year since I’ve last gone to confession. Let’s not pretend we’re any holier than the birds outside pecking at the seeds I’ve put out for them, yeah?” 

Modesty nods, and then Credence picks up his fork, with a silent assent from the man, they all begin to eat. 

**Author's Note:**

> Indefinite hiatus


End file.
